


won't mind sneaking off

by hdnprplflwrs



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Duelling, Established Relationship, Fights, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, Love, M/M, Sparring, Teasing, a lot of it, because i am a sucker for sassy matt, it's the fight scene, lets be honest shiro is too, matt is also horny, matt is magnus, of course it's the fight scene, sassy!matt, shiro is alec, thirsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdnprplflwrs/pseuds/hdnprplflwrs
Summary: Matt's doing his best to get used to not being the all-powerful High Warlock of Brooklyn, and that somehow includes this thing that the Shadowhunters do called "training."Matt's not complaining, one of the first times he saw Shiro was when he was covered in sweat.(Rated T for cursing)
Relationships: Matt Holt/Shiro
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	won't mind sneaking off

**Author's Note:**

> It's--it's the fight scene. It's literally impossible not to write. I could not resist.

Flickering candles light up the hall, in fat candles resting in chandeliers and candelabras that haven’t been updated since the Victorian era. Matt knows. He had a few of them in his estate, way back when. Oh, the parties....He didn’t miss the wigs, though. The wigs were dreadful compared to the blessedly loose style he has now. He might do something about those dreadful mosaics, though. Honestly, these Shadowhunters could use a little taste. But, _nooooooo_ , they’re all stuffy about _tradition_ (ew), which grates on a guy every few decades. Well. At least he gets a nontraditional relationship out of this.

His bo staff isn’t uncomfortable in his hands, but he finds himself wishing for just a small trace of his once formidable power, just so he could at least fix the microtears at his skin about to happen because of the worn leather and maybe upgrade the staff itself to something more his style (polished dark wood, for example; this brown stain is _ridiculous_ ), but familiar footsteps bring him out of his endless supply of memories.

Shiro is a sight to behold, muscled tank and loose pants flattering his broad shoulders and expanses of muscle, a welcome bonus to his determination of steel and a good head on his shoulders. Matt doesn’t hold back on his staring, letting his eyes rake his boyfriend from bottom to top as Shiro spins his own bo staff in his hands. His white hair gleams in the sunlight, gray eyes narrowed into a challenge somehow unlike all of the others Matt had faced after over four hundred years. The little tuft that Shiro swept to the front is positively golden in the candlelight (much like his soul, and Matt isn’t even using a figure of speech).

Shiro slams his staff into the ground, as if he expects Matt to jump at the sound.

Matt just smirks. Yeah, he might be less built that Shiro, but he’s still kicking for a four-hundred-year old warlock. He just might have to keep up with this thing that Shiro called “exercise,” something his lean body will have to get used to. Bit of a pain and leaves him sore, but then again, sex counts as exercise. Matt has asked Shiro if he could just do that, half as a joke and half as a way of asking his boyfriend if he could fuck him to high heaven, but Shiro said _no_ , the _bastard_.

“Ready?” Shiro deadpans as he stops in front of Matt, a few feet away. Really, people should start calling Shiro Golden Boy instead of Champion because the way the sun frames Shiro's body is _totally_ not helping Matt keep this _professional_ , goddamit, he's not letting Shiro lose his position as Head of the Institute because he was caught sucking anywhere on his boyfriend's body. Such a shame that he's stuck to worshipping that body like a temple beneath closed doors.

“So bold,” Matt grins at him, switching his stance into a ready one. “I like seeing you in your—” he drops his voice to match Shiro’s deep tone —“ _Shadowhunter mode_.” He sticks out his staff in a challenge.

Shiro just knocks his stick away — _rude_ — before assuming the same position Matt had taken. “Lower your center,” but Matt _deeeefinitely_ heard a little bit of breathiness in Shiro’s tone. Damn, if Shiro got this worked up already, Matt might take up those exercise sessions. Because he liked tight spandex. Felt nice on his ass.

(So did Shiro's hands).

The _thing_ is, Matt muses as he lets Shiro push him back into the wall, wood connecting with satisfying _whacks_ , Shiro goes at him with all his power and lets his technique slip. Of course that isn’t to say that his form isn’t damn near _perfect_ , because it _is_. And Shiro doesn’t hold back, which Matt appreciates. But he _really_ shouldn’t be worked up over a training session.

Shiro suddenly stops attacking him and Matt realizes their staffs are at a standstill. Hm. _A little less rusty than I thought_. It’s only the arch of Shiro’s eyebrow that tells Matt he _maaay_ have said those words aloud. He doesn’t mind. Communication being important in a relationship and all that.

It’s _so easy_ to read Shiro because the boy just. Cannot. For the _life_ of him keep his emotions off his _face_ , and desire is pooling in those stormy gray eyes. If Matt had the concentration (or his magic, but he’s not thinking about that) he’d roll his own eyes, but instead he goes for attacking Shiro once more, pushing him back until he’s got his staff end in Shiro’s face, Shiro’s staff swung behind his back.

Shiro’s eyes flick up at him, and _goddamnit_ now Matt’s gone and got himself _wanting_ , because _ooooh_ , that submissive look is too _endearing_ for this world. It’s replaced by a blank stare before Matt has time to appreciate it, and Matt wants to pout. “Come on, tell me you’re not just a little impressed.”

Shiro’s eyebrow raises once more, just a hair, before he’s suddenly raining blows down on Matt’s staff until he’s able to knock it out of his hands. Shiro’s panting, but that just makes his pecs stand out more, and Matt wants to suck the golden tan off his skin and replace it with blue and purple, but Shiro ruins it, _goddamit_ , with his about-face still on (Matt can see his resolve cracking, _fuck_ if it doesn’t do things to him). “Those would have been your last words.”

Matt could snort, but he’s now realizing how tired his muscles and bones are as if Shiro had managed to rattle their foundation (which, he technically did). He’s heard a lot of so-called “last words.” Really, it didn’t matter until the actual last words were said, which could be thousands of “last words” away from the first “last words.”

“Not necessarily,” he crouches low, immediately aiming for Shiro’s knees once his boyfriend is done knocking the bo staffs away. The surprise attack catches Shiro unexpectedly, his breath stuttering as Matt wrestles him into submission, scissor-leg style.

The adrenaline rush is slow, but the feel of Shiro’s human hand digging into his thighs and the cool metal of his prosthetic secure in Matt’s hands keep him grounded, even if Shiro’s death grip on his legs is sending jolts of warmth into Matt’s nether region. “Oh, I forgot to tell you: I’ve trained with grand masters of all types in my lifetime.” He grins at his struggling boyfriend. Not only is he unbearably cute, but the fact that small and lean Matt Holt is holding down the Takashi Shirogane is an irony he’ll probably explore later. Maybe in the bedroom. “You should try it sometime.”

“What are you, a black belt in name dropping?” Shiro manages to wheeze before he tries to knock Matt off his high horse.

(Come _on_. Matt knows _all_ the tricks. Otherwise those four hundred years would have gone to waste.)

Matt wrangles Shiro into another headlock, even though his muscles are screaming at him for putting them against this wall of muscle. Shiro has too many muscles to be normal, and yes that might just be his angelic blood, but he's a brick wall or something. As hard (haha, well, that too) as the floor. Still, Matt manages to get out, “Hmm, low blow.”

“You deserved it,” Matt hears Shiro grunt under his knee. “I didn’t know this was supposed to be a competition.”

Shiro catches the little release that Matt gives and tries to roll away, but not before Matt’s caught him into another chokehold. Shiro is making this way too _easy_ and Matt can't decide if his boyfriend is _actually_ going easy on him or if the problem is the slowly growing tent in the loose fabric of Shiro’s pants. He decides it’s the second one. “Oh, am I supposed to just let you win?”

Shiro taps his leg twice, the symbol for yield. Matt rolls off himself onto his feet, moving about gracefully because there’s a perfectly good polished stone floor, dammit, it deserves to be danced on. Fighting works too, he supposed. But dancing first.

He turns back to Shiro, not missing his half-lidded eyes or the fucking _lip_ bite. That _fucking_ _lip bite_ , does Shiro really know how to kill him? “We’re supposed to be working,” he pants, the two of them not even crouching into fighting stances and walking in a circle around each other. Matt knows those eyes, they’re predator eyes, he knows because that’s how he stared at Shiro the first few times they met and oof, he can feel his dick hardening, _fuck_.

Shiro shakes his head, all chiseled lines and every pore on his face and sweat droplet on his body is screaming _sex_ and Matt just _wants_. Lickety lickety. He should be worried that his mind is reverting to that of a Generation Z kid, but his brain might actually be malfunctioning. Because his boyfriend is too hot. Matt.exe. has reached some errors. Return twelve hours after the moaning has stopped.

Shiro strides to him with purpose, eyes narrowed. When he speaks, his voice is so deep and gravely and full of desire it makes Matt’s knees weak. “I told you not to flirt with me.” He grips the neckline of Matt’s shirt and pushes him against the nearest pillar, engulfing his mouth with his own and Matt _melts_. Like, he might actually _fall over_. Shiro doesn’t even wait, doesn't tease, just goes straight to _tongue_ and _lips_ and rucking up Matt’s _clothes_ and this gives Matt the highest high he’s ever had with anyone and anything at this point because Shiro is hitting every spot that he knows gets Matt off, and he can feel hardened muscle under his slim fingers and feel Shiro’s tongue battling his own and now Shiro’s grinding on him, _fuck_ , his lover is into some kinky shit and Matt’s all for it.

Suddenly, Shiro damn near _rips_ himself from Matt, hands up and gasping in lungfuls of air and _holy fuck_ , he could not get hotter but he _did_. “Hold that thought.”

_ Excuse me what— _

Shiro holds up a finger. “Bedroom.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song that plays in the background, "The Chain" by MATTIS.
> 
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